The Little Things
by Blue-eyesThropp
Summary: It was the little things Erik Lehnsherr loved about Charles Xavier. It was also the little things that made him leave.


**Author's Note: Hello again! Here is my first attempt at a slash fanfic (and probably my only one) I ship Cherik as Bromance, but I was listening to "Something About You" by Vonda Shepard, and even though the song has nothing to do with this fanfiction, the chorus somehow inspired me to write this (because that's the weird way in which my brain functions :-P ) This is not my first attempt at writing about X-men and Cherik although it's the first one I have decided to publish and there will probably be more to follow. So, if you enjoy this, stay tuned :-) I'd be thrilled if you could drop a line or two in the review box too.  
Lots of love, and remember: mutant and proud!  
Blue-eyes**

**Disclaimer: I do not own X-men, sadly, and my fanfictions are for personal use and entertainment purposes only. I make no profit from my fanfictons… sadly. **

**Summary: It was the little things Erik Lehnsherr loved about Charles Xavier. It was also the little things that made him leave. Rated K+ for romantic hints and implied physical injury.**

The Little Things

It was the little things that Erik really loved about Charles- that made him fall more and more for the young Englishman as their week of partnership continued. Naturally, Erik was not unimpressed by Charles' physique; his torso, especially, was to die for in a shirt and waistcoat, or his gorgeous hair that seemed to fall naturally into a perfect position, yet he mostly valued the finer, more detailed aspects of Charles Xavier.

The first that Erik had noticed about Charles was the strength yet simultaneous gentility with which Charles held him as he hoisted him out of the water on the night they had met. His arms and hands were firm, as required, yet Erik had never felt as though he was being forced in any way. He was never under the impression that he could not have swum away if he had wanted; it had made him submit willingly, for once, to being rescued. Charles was not one to use brute force, so different from what Erik was used to from the camps, and he found this gentle strength attractive right from the start.

Then, there were Charles' eyes. Erik knew it was a stupid cliché, but they were absolutely mesmerising. A striking blue, almost electric, that hypnotized anyone who created eye-contact for longer than a second. Erik had, at first, thought this to be a physical manifestation of Charles' mutation, but had quickly abandoned the idea. His eyes had nothing to do with his powers; he would have felt the difference. No, Erik put it down to natural beauty in the end.

Erik also loved the fact that Charles would always make the same opening move in a game of chess. Whereas Erik tried to mix things up, be unpredictable, Charles would always move the pawn left from the centre two steps. It was at once a thing of comfort for the Englishman, for he had certain routines he assisted on adhering to, and a genius chess strategy. Right from the start, Charles would lure his opponent into a false sense of security with perceived predictability until said opponent became so invested in outfoxing Charles with his basic moves that they forgot it was precisely those foreseeable moves that people chose to ignore due to their simplicity and obviousness that could be the moth lethal. And although Erik was, by the Tuesday of the week they spent preparing their students for battle, well aware of Charles' strategy, he fell for it every single time.

Charles' one trait that Erik found both irksome and endearing was his unwavering belief in the good of humanity. In the beginning, Erik was irritated by his new friend's eternal optimism. After all, he had seen the worst sides of the world, the terrors and the lengths humans would go to preserve themselves. However, when he confronted Charles on why he was so willing to believe in the virtues of the inferior race that was so afraid of their own- fear, he had said, was hatred in the making after all- and why he was so blind to reality, Charles had replied that he had a better idea of reality than most. He had been inside people's heads; had seen all the fear, the hatred, the egoism and xenophobia. But he had also seen a spark of hope. The tiniest glow of goodness, of morality, that, he believed, could be brought to a full flame with the right influences from the right people. Erik had been inclined to disagree, but had let it rest. Besides, he found it rather an admirable side of Charles' personality: his perpetual hope, despite his full knowledge of all that was negative in human beings.

The thing Erik loved most about Charles, though, was how loving he was. Erik supposed this tied into his eternal belief in the hope in everyone. There was not a single person Charles did not treat with kindness and forgiveness- on the outside at least. Of the two of them, naturally Erik was not the psychic, but he believed that even Charles had to suppress his true feelings in the spirit of kindness every now and again. Still, unlike Erik, he was civil to everyone. He was the most loving and caring teacher, and all their students were treated with the utmost respect and equality. Then, there was Moira…  
Erik watched the way Charles made her cups of tea in the morning; how he gently placed his arm around her or his hand on the small of her back when they conversed. He saw them sneaking off for passionate kisses exchanged secretly in the cover of doorways, behind bushes, concealed by pillars. Erik knew Charles liked- loved-Moira, and would therefore never admit his attraction for his telepath friend. He was fairly sure Charles was aware of it anyhow- he could usually read Erik like an open book, yet he spoke not of it. And even Erik, with all his unrequited feelings, was treated with dignity, respect and- yes- love. And, strangely, it made Erik love Charles even more.

All these little things, Erik had grown so used to over the last week. They made Charles Charles, each trait, each quirk, and Erik loved each and every one. Yet as he lifted his friend off the Cuban sand, he felt the strength that he had so admired on the first day seep out of his friend's shoulders and arms. Limp; his entire body was limp, his leg spasming underneath him. Erik saw the electric charm and beauty fade from Charles' eyes, leaving them grey and lifeless; hollow cavities in the young man's pain contorted face. As Erik held his friend, his hand clenching the bullet he had retrieved from Charles' back, he cursed himself for his recklessness. Had he simply stuck to the plan, he would never have had to deflect Moira's bullets. Hi mind wandered briefly to the many chess games during which he had asked Charles why he always made the same opening move. He realized now that, sometimes, predictability was a force to be reckoned with, whereas rashness was a recipe for disasters.

_"__She didn't do this, Erik… you did."_

Gone was the optimism from Charles' voice. All his hope that Erik would change; would see the disastrous path he had set out on and change course; vanished. Gone was his belief in the good inside his friend.

Still, behind his friend's drained eyes, Erik could still see love…

_"__We're brothers you and I. We want the same things." _

_"__Oh my friend… I'm sorry. But we do not."_

Love and forgiveness. For Moira. For her shots, her bullets, her stupidity. Yet for Erik himself; nothing.

Yes, it was the little things that Erik really loved about Charles Xavier. It was also the little things that made him leave.


End file.
